


Ends of the Earth

by marimoes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Anders being loved is my favorite song, Deep Roads (Dragon Age), Dragon Age II Quest - Finding Nathaniel, Hawke isn't jealous, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Outdoor Sex, Reunion Sex, This is mainly about nanders with a reassuring Hawke thrown in the mix, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: It was hard back there in Hightown for Anders. Having to look Delilah in the eyes again wasn’t something he ever anticipated. How much she resembles Nathaniel is truly amazing though, right down to the worried look that hangs in her smile.They’re always worried, the Howe’s, no matter the situation.He tried to joke. A poor attempt in brushing the stutter in his chest off as anxiety of their location. Now, walking towards the Deep Roads, he knows different. Not that it wasn’t actually anxiety—he got that part right—but what it was directed towards.It’s been years since he last saw Nathaniel. Knowing how much he himself has changed, it’s terrifying to think of an equivalent. How does he even tell him?
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke, Anders/Male Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Anders/Nathaniel Howe, Male Hawke/Nathaniel Howe
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Ends of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Closure is a beautiful thing, and DA robbed me of it.

It was hard back there in Hightown for Anders. Having to look Delilah in the eyes again wasn’t something he ever anticipated. How much she resembles Nathaniel is truly amazing though, right down to the worried look that hangs in her smile. 

They’re always worried, the Howe’s, no matter the situation. 

He tried to joke. A poor attempt in brushing the stutter in his chest off as anxiety of their location. Now, walking towards the Deep Roads, he knows different. Not that it wasn’t actually anxiety—he got that part right—but what it was directed towards. 

It’s been years since he last saw Nathaniel. Knowing how much he himself has changed, it’s terrifying to think of an equivalent. How does he even tell him? 

“Anders.” 

Looking up, Anders stops an inch short from running straight into Hawke’s back. His broadsword now reflects Anders’ expression of shock back at him; face now looking bent, misconstrued in the steel. 

“Anders,” Hawke repeats, turning his head to look back with a single eye, “You’ve been far too quiet for my taste. Is there something wrong?” 

“Yeah, usually Blondie has already worked through the first half of his manifesto off memory by now. We should be to the part where he references the great works of that elf whose name sounds like a swear. Love that part,” Varric muses, twisting his earring, “But Hawke is right. You ok?” 

Anders fights the blush from his cheeks as he steps forwards to walk around Hawke. “I’m fine. Just forgot to eat this morning is all, so I’m trying to conserve energy.” 

He doesn’t look back to check if the others will follow him, but a moment later the crunch of stone is again in the air. The excuse was weak, unusual in its nature, and Anders knows that it won’t keep them off him for long. Hopefully they can just get this over with easily. 

Maybe Nathaniel won’t even remember him. 

A hand lands heavy on Anders’ shoulder, and causes him to jump as Hawke tsks. Well, that didn’t take very long at all. 

“We both know you’re incapable of skipping breakfast, given how belligerent you are with me. You know the man we’re looking for, Anders. You know him well,” Hawke all but whispers, shooting a quick glance back at Varric who is too busy keeping Merrill from wandering off, “Do you know him like—me?” 

Anders forces a dry swallow down his throat to keep the noise that tried to escape at bay but ends up coughing. Hawke’s hand stays firm, curling into his armor with feathers threading through. He’s not going to let this up until he tells him, Hawke is funny like that. 

“Yes,” Anders says. One word of admission out into the air in front of him, and all the feelings he pushed away are back grappling his heart. 

Hawke’s hand doesn’t move at the confession. They just keep walking, pieced together the same way for a few minutes before Hawke hums. It’s one of thought, but far from the one he does in irritation. 

“I take that it didn’t end well?” Hawke asks, eyes flitting to the side to look against the edge of the mountain. Anders assumes it’s to draw Varric away from prying, but it may also be that he doesn’t want to look at him when he answers. “I’ll kick his ass if I need to.” 

“NO,” Anders almost yells, catching it behind his teeth in time to hiss, “No, it’s—it wasn’t like that. We just had different paths we had to take, and it’s been six years. I didn’t have Justice in me then. I was a very different man, Hawke.” 

Hawke’s brows furrow for a moment before pulling his hand away from Anders’ shoulder. The situation is nothing if not difficult. It’s one thing to have a former lover that parted on relatively good terms. It’s another to be dealing with all this as the new man in the situation. 

“I understand. The offer still stands though,” Hawke says, smile tugging on his face and one mirrors on Anders’, “Tell me one thing—”

“I’m not telling you who is bigger,” Anders sighs, earning another tsk from Hawke’s lips, “and don’t try to say that you weren’t going to ask.” 

They walk quietly for a moment, listening to the story Merrill is telling Varric about the very nice man who took her things for her at the market. That he said he would bring them to her home for her since they had to leave on this trip so suddenly. A collective sigh comes from the group and Anders makes a mental note to look for a warding amulet that keeps others away. 

Climbing the last hill of the path, Hawke adjusts his sword on his back. It’s a deliberate shoulder roll, holding an unspoken discomfort, and Anders looks over at him with question. 

“So, he’s bigger, hm? Interesting,” Hawke muses, and before Anders can open his mouth, he takes a bigger step to gain the lead. With eyes now set out onto the mouth of the cave, he raises his voice, “We’ll be there soon. Have weapons at the ready, you remember last time.” 

Anders’ argument dies and is instead replaced by another wave of anxiety. He places a cautious hand on the staff against his back and can feel it start to thrum with energy. There are definitely darkspawn close. 

Not in the immediate vicinity, but Hawke is right, they can’t be very far off by now. 

Varric shifts Bianca over his shoulder, nudging Merrill. “Hopefully, this is nothing like last time, I don’t have any other brothers to be betrayed by. You got any, Daisy?” 

* * *

The darkspawn came running at them just as they expected the moment they stepped where light didn’t touch. It was a quick battle, nothing short of normal and Hawke’s new sword proved useful. A grace added to his step now that doesn’t show when he wields an axe. 

Anders had to fight to keep from staring at him move, but with attention demanded from snapping jaws in front of him that wasn’t too hard.

Even then, Anders' mind was somewhere else. Now that the swarm has ceased, he’s left to deal with reality once more. Reality that feels like a dream when his eyes find the outline he knows so well. Longbow tucked back into place to rest against a quiver of nearly depleted arrows. 

“Oh,” Nathaniel says, turning to find himself among company, “you’re the champion of Kirkwall, aren’t you?” Anders feels himself freeze beneath his sweeping gaze, but when Nathaniel’s eyes find his, the man is the opposite. He’s soft, warm in the cold light of the cave, and when he speaks it feels more like a breath than a sentence, “And—Anders?” 

Anders feels it in an instant. That rush of adrenaline he feared for this entire time since seeing Delilah’s face. His words come stumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them, sarcasm resting like an old blanket on his tongue, “Making friends as always, I see.” 

“There’s no escaping you, it seems,” Nathaniel laughs, taking another step forward. 

Their pace is back in an instant. A record whose needle skipped a track but has been reset. Feeling anxious seems stupid now, standing here like this. 

“I’m special that way,” Anders replies, smile begging to break wide across his face. He holds it to a tight grin and let’s his gaze shift to Hawke, “Hawke, this Ser Nathaniel Howe.” 

Hawke’s eyebrows lift, eyes scanning Nathaniel head to toe before turning to meet Anders. He tilts his head back and forth in a silent question before saying, “This is him.” 

The words sit as both a statement of their mission and a question towards Anders. Both that he responds to with a single nod.

“My sister sent you, didn’t she?” Nathaniel says before sighing, “This trip wasn’t supposed to go on this long, so I understand her concern. Still, I hate to think you had to come all this way just for me.” 

A snort leaves Anders, and Nathaniel narrows his eyes as his arms tuck unconsciously into place. “Please, don’t act like you don’t love the attention.” 

Nathaniel’s head falls against his shoulder and a groan escapes his lips that is coaxed with a laugh. There is no denying it anymore—he remembers him. He remembers him well. 

“As touching as this is,” Hawke says, stepping forwards into Nathaniel’s now snapped eyeline, “How are you down here? I don’t recall giving anyone the maps.” 

“Right. My party got them from an unfortunate dwarf, Bartrand,” Nathaniel explains, earning a grumble from Varric, “There wasn’t something quite right with him, but his path was accurate.” 

Varric shifts in place, but settles once Merrill rests a hand on his shoulder. There is no time to be getting worked up over things that are already done. Anders knows this well. 

A little too well. 

“Regardless of who you got them from—why are you even down here, Nathaniel?” Anders asks, stepping forward. It’s like there is a current running between the two of them and Anders wants to know what happens if they touch. 

Will they explode or fizzle out?

Nathaniel turns out to the next mouth of the cave, looking further on into the roads. He holds there, face hidden to the others, but Anders can read him like the back of his hand. 

They had a job and it hasn’t gone well. 

“How long have they been gone?” Hawke asks, and Anders tries not to snap his head to look at him. Forgetting how well Hawke can read people at a glance shouldn’t have slipped Anders’ mind. Of course he also knows something is up. “You got separated and haven’t seen them in a while but won’t abandon them. I admire a man like that.” 

Nathaniel turns, eyes lower now, “They shouldn’t have gotten away from me to begin with. I don’t know how much respect you can have for an action like that.” 

“Come on, Howe,” Anders says and Nathaniel’s eyes flit to him in an instant, “Have you gone soft over these years? We'll find them and get you back with what you came for.”

A slow breath draws into Nathaniel’s lungs as he seems to consider how to respond. Anders prays it’s with a bite back—just a nibble—for then he’ll know. If they’ve changed too much. If he’s holding onto a past that has no place in the present. 

“I would say we can’t waste time, but I don’t sense any other spawn nearby. My hope is that they got somewhere safe and have stayed put. Not that they’re not capable of handling a hoard on their own. Still,” Nathaniel says, walking back from the caves edge to stand before Hawke, “I’ll be grateful to get to know just who has had to put up with this fool for the last six years. I don’t suppose you have a cat travelling with you?” 

“No, you ass,” Anders laughs, shaking his head, “No pets are on this journey to wake you ‘rudely’, as you put it.” 

“Good,” Nathaniel confirms, and barely brushes Anders’ shoulder as he walks back towards the entrance, “I’d hate to wake up being licked.” 

Varric and Merrill look at one another for a moment before looking at Hawke, and with a confirming wave they start to follow suit. When Anders too tries to start off, body trying hard to not race ahead, he’s stopped by the sound of Hawke clearing his throat. 

He closes their gap with a step and wraps an arm around Anders’ neck. With a last look to Nathaniel’s outline before it disappears, he leans in to whisper, “Know that I don’t share the same sentiment.” 

* * *

When night falls on their camp, Anders is held in limbo. Sitting between his tent and the fire, hands fiddling with nothing but themselves. He can’t focus, can’t seem to think about all the possibilities in front of him. 

It’s clear his love for Nathaniel is still present, both to himself and Hawke, but only he seems bothered by it. Hawke doesn’t feel like the jealous type, he doesn’t seem like any type other than rough at times. But this knowledge doesn’t get him anywhere. 

Nowhere at all. 

“Anders,” Hawke says, crouching down into his peripherals, “You’re going to rub the skin off your hands if you don’t stop, and I’d prefer if my mage wasn’t a skeleton.” 

His hands go to rest in his lap, but still quiver to move. Whatever it is that won’t let him rest, be it the spawn in the area or not, it’s going to drive him mad. It’s only a matter of time. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just different than I thought it would be. It would be easy if he were cold towards me, or even neutral—but he smiles. Hawke, I love you so much,” Anders says, hands moving to press tight against his head, “I shouldn’t feel this way.” 

The crackle of fire flicks against the ground, embers dancing before dying away. Anders waits, with bated breath and closed eyes, for his partner to speak. To hear the disappointment color his voice, but nothing comes. Instead, his hand is peeled away and his fingers curl instinctively around Hawke’s. 

His eyes reflect much more than the flames beside them, and Anders feels his throat start to tighten. 

“I love you too, but I need you to realize who you’re talking to,” Hawke says before pressing a kiss onto Anders’ knuckles, “If you need closure with him, get it. Tomorrow your paths will diverge again, and you may not get another chance six years from now. Part of loving you means making sure you’re happy. Usually that just means smashing the skulls of a couple of templars, but if you need to smash something el—”

“Hawke, please,” Anders interrupts and can feel the heat of his words start to burn his neck, “It won’t come to that.” 

“Shame, then. May have to have a go at him myself if you won’t,” Hawke taunts, pressing another kiss on Anders’ hand when he grumbles, “Now, I need you to go get _Ser Howe_ and collect some of the mushrooms we know aren’t too far into the cavern. They’ll make a nice dinner and give you two some time to figure everything out without our notary around.” 

Both look towards Varric who is scribbling in his journal. His pen taps against his face when he pauses, twice in thought before he gives a soft gasp of inspiration and continues. The last thing Anders needs is his discomfort memorialized. 

“Fine. I’ll be back soon,” Anders resigns and lifts to stand alongside Hawke, “I’ll go fetch him, _just_ because you insist.” 

Hawke smiles, patting Anders’ shoulder once before walking towards his tent, “Remember that I really love the thick ones.” 

“I can’t forget,” Anders smirks, just a touch, and his chest feels lighter than it has all day. 

It’s a feeling that doesn’t last as he gently shakes the flap of Nathaniel’s tent before poking his head inside. He finds him with maps out around him, fingers placed against different spots with his eyebrows tied in knots. 

“Sorry to intrude, but we’ve been given a task,” Anders says, and Nathaniel’s head snaps up. 

His eyes are far away, looking straight through him for a moment before they again focus. With a deft hand, all the maps are rerolled and tucked back into his bag without a word. Whatever he was looking at—it can’t be good. 

“What kind of task? I know I’m not really a ‘guest’, but I didn’t think the Champion would have me running errands,” Nathaniel mutters, but clearly let’s his mind replay the sentence, “Just us?” 

The canvas of the tent bites against Anders’ thumb as he strokes it. His voice sounded hopeful just then, didn’t it? Like he was relieved it would just be them alone. 

“Yes. Hawke wants a fitting dinner and I suppose he thinks two Grey Wardens can handle whatever we might find down there,” Anders reasons. To call himself a Grey Warden often makes him ill to the thought, but when it’s alongside Nathaniel—

“Alright, let’s get going then,” Nathaniel says, rocking up to stand and his hair falls to curtain his face, “Can’t let nightfall get too much on us or even we may have some issues.” 

Backing up out of the tent, Anders watches Nathaniel emerge before straightening back up to full height. His shoulders roll once before his equipment is pulled back on and Anders can only continue to look on. Was he always this tall?

“Right,” Anders agrees and forces back a swallow as Nathaniel pulls on his gloves, “don’t want any issues.”

Issues would be something of an understatement of what the two of them found. Two separate hoards, one with an orc no less, but all killed by their hands. Fighting at a distance suited them both well for the occasion, leaving only Anders to have a streak of blood left across the breast of his coat. 

Unlike earlier, when they fought together yet separate with Hawke and the others, this time it clicked. Their movements set back into place as they backed up against each other, taking things on. Shoulders pressed hard like a promise that they’re there ‘til the end. 

To miss it—Anders would be lying if he said that he wasn’t disappointed to feel the thrum of darkspawn fade from his mind. 

Because now they are alone again, eyes scanning along the walls for whatever mushrooms they can find. The red glow of lyrium shines throughout the area and if it weren’t for the knowledge of what it can do, Anders may even call it beautiful. 

He looks back to the entrance and can see the opening just barely. A dot, now dark with the cover of night. 

“We should head b—” 

Anders doesn’t get the rest out, for it’s stolen along with his breath as his back slams against stone. His next is also taken from him, lost in Nathaniel’s mouth. With a focus that can only come from him, Anders feels Nathaniel’s hands weave up and into the underneath of his hair. 

They curl into his skin, pulling not only Anders’ head up, but also his mouth open. 

A short huff leaves him as he inhales through his nose, trying to get any air he can. He manages to pull in a stutter of breath and prays that it’s enough. 

Nathaniel, it seems, is the opposite. Mouth pressed firmly as if Anders himself was his source. Like he’s been drowning this whole time and only now broken the surface. 

Anders wants to think about what’s happening. He begs his mind to give him any train of thought, any at all, but they’re tossed away with the mushrooms in his hands. Everything else is gone, only Nathaniel remains. 

_Nathaniel._

With lips just as sweet as they were the day he kissed him goodbye on that mountain road. He still smells of pine, Anders swears it, earthy and warm against his skin. They press into the wall harder, with Nathaniel shifting his knee to pin between Anders’ legs and for the first time they break apart. 

But they don’t go far, or long, before they’re together again. A tangle of huffs and kisses, hot and desperate against each other's reddening mouths to reclaim what the years have stolen from them.

“I couldn’t take it,” Nathaniel pants, chest heaving for air, “All day. All day I kept my distance from you, knowing just how bad it would be if I got close.” Another kiss is pressed in earnest before he rests his forehead against Anders’. “I brushed your shoulder _once_ for Maker’s sake, and I swear I was hard for half an hour.” 

Anders doesn’t laugh, doesn’t answer, only kisses Nathaniel again. This time it’s gentle, though desperation still hangs on his tongue as it wraps easily around Nathaniel’s. A low groan fills his ears and is followed by the sound of soft clapping. 

Like shrapnel they break apart, leaving Anders pressed against the wall as Nathaniel lands feet in front of him. Through blurred eyes, Anders spots their audience; Hawke, leaned cross legged against the wall with folded hands. 

“No, please continue,” Hawke says, holding out a hand between them, “It was just getting good.” 

Nathaniel stutters, eyes glancing back and forth before closing his mouth. Anders can only imagine what’s going through his mind right now. It’s probably a blur of curses and statistics on if he could possibly take on Hawke right about now. 

“Hawke,” Anders groans, “Somehow I knew you’d do this—yet I did it anyway. What does that make me?” 

“Someone I know well.” Hawke pushes himself off the wall, grin pulling wider across his face. “Also, hot. I would’ve hunted this bastard down ages ago if I knew this would be the result. I take it you got your answer, though.” 

“Someone tell me what’s going on right now, or else—” Nathaniel starts, and Anders holds up a hand to cut him off, “Anders!” 

“What’s going on is that Anders’ needed to know how you felt about him, and I created what apparently was the perfect storm. I can’t have my partner dying to darkspawn because his head is wrapped around something else, now can I?” Hawke replies, each step bringing him closer until he stands between them.

Nathaniel’s eyes narrow with each word, but his mouth drops at ‘partner’. He doesn’t get out a breath, much less an argument, before Hawke is standing in front of him. With a cautious hand, Anders starts thinking about how quickly he could create a paralysis glyph if he needed to.

A thought that proves useful as he watches Hawke reach out and grab Nathaniel’s neck, pulling him forwards. But before Nathaniel can pull a dagger, or Anders can finish channeling the spell, they both go slack; arms dropped like a marionette whose strings have been cut by Hawke himself. 

He’s pressed against Nathaniel, kiss simple but no doubt rough, and Anders blinks.

Nathaniel is faring no better, with hands frozen out into the air with an attack that died the moment Hawke’s lips touched his. It’s not that this wasn’t a possibility—in fact, Anders is surprised he didn’t predict it. 

Hawke kisses Nathaniel once more before releasing him to stagger backwards. “Well, I guess I can see what all the fuss is about.”

“ _Are you mad_?” Nathaniel hisses, eyes wide and wild as he steps back up to Hawke, “I could kill you for that.”

“But you didn’t,” Hawke replies, reaching out to stroke Nathaniel’s cheek before he jerks away, “Though you are feistier than I thought you were.”

“That he is,” Anders sighs with a smile. 

The three men stand, each no more than a foot from the other and if Anders didn’t know better, he would suspect a fight. But he knows the energy that sits in both of their postures, and that a fight might be the last thing on either of their minds. 

“So, Hawke.” Anders looks at Hawke, head tilted towards Nathaniel. “Thoughts?” 

Hawke hums, hand rubbing against his beard before waving a hand for Anders to come closer. His hand then rests beneath his chin, pulling Anders flush against him as they kiss. It’s an odd sensation for Anders—kissing his two broken rules within minutes of the other. The taste of both Hawke and Nathaniel mix on his tongue in a confusing, yet decadent, combination. 

“I think,” Hawke murmurs on Anders’ lips as he leans back, “that you have good taste.” 

Nathaniel shifts beside them, face blending faster into a deeper red. “You’re not going to fight me for kissing Anders, you instead want—” 

“I think, we’d like you to join us for the night, if you’re willing,” Hawke finishes, reaching out to Nathaniel. Anders watches as Nathaniel’s eyes flit to him for confirmation, and when he grins, Nathaniel’s shoulders relax a touch. “Though camp is still filled with the nosiest people alive—but slamming Anders against stone looked like fun.” 

Anders rolls his eyes earning a smirk from Hawke but can see the battle that still rages within Nathaniel’s head. Last he knew him, Nathaniel was the type that may turn this down, and worry pricks at Anders neck. 

Taking it into his own hands, Anders steps towards Nathaniel, quickly pulling him by the collar into a kiss. The rest of the tension in Nathaniel’s shoulders melt in an instant, and out of the corner of his eye Anders watches him take Hawke’s hand. 

“Good,” Hawke nearly purrs, “Now, about that stone—” 

* * *

Dipping around the next corner, the three of them found a nook carved out against the wall. With the confirmation of both Anders and Nathaniel, it was determined that the area was safe. Safe enough apart from the lyrium that rests a few feet away, but the light was welcome. 

Anders doesn’t remember much of the between after that, only where he is now. A nightmare location that somehow feels like a dream. 

His lips are raw from kisses, swollen and sore, and he suspects the others are as well. Once Nathaniel’s wall against Hawke fell, it was like a floodgate. Leaving Anders to realize that his outburst before was merely a sprung leak in comparison. 

Any remaining thoughts vanish from his head as he sinks down onto Nathaniel, and a sharp gasp leaves his lips, “ _Maker_ , it never gets easier.” 

A laugh ghosts from Nathaniel’s lips against Anders’ collar before he thrusts upwards. It pulls a grunt from Anders, one of challenge, and he forces his eyes open. Left only in the top of his small clothes, Nathaniel looks like a different man entirely. 

His shoulders are more defined, carved by years of wielding a bow, and Anders wants to devour them. Not before Hawke, apparently. He’s been occupied there himself, placing heavy kisses into Nathaniel’s neck and sucking on the skin. 

“Hawke,” Anders sighs, lifting up slowly before shifting back down again, “don’t forget to leave him purple.” 

Hawke’s smile bends around Nathaniel’s collarbone before he turns to rest his head there. His eyes now narrowed at Anders in taunt. One that dies with the moan that leaves Anders’ lips, his own eyes now fluttered shut. Nathaniel is finding his pace slowly, and after years of Hawke, Anders forgot how delicious that could be. 

“Just as tight as always,” Nathaniel tuts, fingers curling into Anders’ hips, “I guess you being a tight ass every other waking moment makes this worth it.” 

Anders tries to snap back, to tell Nathaniel that it’s him that could stand to be loosened up, but the words are stolen with Hawke’s hand around him. He strokes in the same slow rhythm as Nathaniel, and for the first time since they began Anders is realizing just how bad this could go. 

“Oh, it does,” Hawke replies, slicked thumb swiping across Anders’ tip, “but isn’t that part of his charm?” 

Nathaniel grins, giving a noise of agreement, and leans forwards to place a kiss against Ander’s neck. His hands tighten against his lower back, locking Anders into a place he knows he won’t escape until he’s come. All this time later, Nathaniel is still the same. Which means—

Anders squeezes tight before grinding against Nathaniel, causing his teeth to bite into his collar. “I can still give you trouble, Howe. Don’t be so quick to forget.” 

Hawke hums with a proud grin, and brushes Nathaniel’s hair back from his face. His eyes are heavily lidded, pleasure seeped deep within the silver of his irises. Anders again grinds against him and Hawke quickly leans forwards to capture Nathaniel’s moan with his mouth. 

Anders watches on with a tight chest as Hawke kisses Nathaniel. How he looks, how they both look in these moments he himself can never see, it feels like a dream. 

“How could I ever?” Nathaniel groans as he pulls away from Hawke, “Just never thought I would have the luxury of experiencing it again.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a luxury,” Anders says and both Hawke and Nathaniel huff. 

A glance is shared between them. Something asked and something answered all at once, and before Anders can ask what about, Hawke has moved. His arms now pushing underneath Anders to tighten around his stomach. The scratch of his beard rests on Anders’ shoulder, breath hot as he places a kiss. 

“Now,” Hawke commands, and at the word his hand snakes down to again wrap around Anders. 

Nathaniel answers with his own retaliation, hips now doubling their time. Anders gasps, nails digging deep into Nathaniel’s shoulders to keep himself from falling over and his breath is taken shakily. 

The pleasure of it all at once is almost blinding. Everything blending together into a white-hot sensation that he can’t seem to process, and when he finds his focus, he nearly loses it again. Hawke is at his right ear, lips resting like support, and Nathaniel is at his left. Each of them grazing just enough to drive a shiver down Anders’ spine. 

“Nathaniel, isn’t he just gorgeous like this?” Hawke asks, hand never stilling its strokes. His voice is much lower, and Anders can feel it vibrate against his back from Hawke’s chest. 

A matching tone joins on his other side, strained only slightly as Nathaniel thrusts up into him harder, “Ethereal.” 

Anders can’t argue because he can’t breathe. All he can do is feel himself draw closer to an inescapable edge. His ears ring, a low warble and he feels his skin start to burn. It’s too much. 

“H-h-h,” Anders pants, lips smacking at the singular consonant. 

Hawke leans up once more to sit even with his ear before tugging Anders’ hand from Nathaniel’s shoulder. He shifts to kneel beside him, and Nathaniel slows his pace for a moment. Just long enough for Anders to grasp Hawke, and when his fingertips meet his thumb a laugh chokes from his throat. 

Anders wants to laugh. He wants to cry as well. In actuality he wants to do both and so much more, but for now all he can do is get washed away. Wave after wave of pleasure as Nathaniel himself draws closer, with his own telltale sign of trembling. 

It’s Hawke who will be difficult to combat, but that’s nothing new. 

When Nathaniel catches his second wind it almost breaks Anders. His tongue tripping over itself as he bounces against Nathaniel’s thighs, and his hand following the same motion on Hawke. He can’t take much more of this. 

“H-h, hah,” Anders gasps through gritted teeth, and feels Hawke lean closer to his ear. 

“Say it, sweetheart,” Hawke murmurs against the crest, as his hand wraps around Anders own to pump faster, “Let us hear you.” 

Nathaniel tenses at the command, hands no doubt now drawing blood from Anders lower back and the held cry leaves Anders’ lips, “H-Howe.” 

A matching one whines from Nathaniel as he comes, pulling Anders as close as he can bear him. He shivers, sweat dripping from his forehead as he rests it against Anders’ shoulder, but doesn’t stop. With a stuttered pace he continues to rock, chest heaving to smack against Anders with each trust. 

“ _Maker’s breath_ ,” Hawke sighs, pressing both a kiss onto Anders’ shoulder, and himself over the edge. His hand goes slack over Anders, twitching slightly as he comes. The bite of his beard brushes down Anders’ arm as he folds for a moment before groaning, “Nathaniel, please.” 

Answering the call, still trembling himself, Nathaniel wraps around Anders’. His thrusts now followed through each time with a stroke, pulling Anders to hunch over against Nathaniel’s shoulder. 

Mouth pressed against his collar; Anders comes. His quiet prayer answered in a rush of euphoria and his vision goes dark for a moment. Everything faded away except the warm feeling of two bodies pressed against him and the weight no longer twisting in his abdomen. 

“Anders,” Nathaniel sighs, hand stroking down Anders’ back, “Maker knows how much I’ve missed you.” 

“And I you,” Anders whispers against his skin, tears begging to well up into his eyes, “I could never have dreamt anything like this.” 

Nathaniel’s hand is grasped by Hawke, holding him firm against Anders’ back. They sit there for a moment in silence, with only the drip of the cavern giving any noise to mix with their softened breath. It feels not of this world, or time, to be like this. 

“We have work to do, but this won’t be the last you see of us. I’m sure,” Hawke says, placing a kiss on Nathaniel’s shoulder, “Though I have a feeling you’re a lot more trouble than you lead on.” 

Anders gives a soft laugh, earning a judging nudge from Nathaniel, “What? You’re a handful, don’t lie.” 

“He’s more than a handful, and you should know best,” Hawke mutters before leaning back, “Alright, time to clean up and get back before we have Varric detailing his new epic poem to sell back in lowtown.” 

He staggers back towards their packs, muttering of the lack of water on his lips. Anders and Nathaniel both watch him go, held captive by the deep carvings of muscle against his back. 

Anders pulls off of Nathaniel slowly, and groans as he shakes his legs. They’re buzzing, very nearly asleep, and when he stands on them, he winces. He forgot how bad that position can be when you’re not on a bed.

Not that they had that choice. 

Offering a hand, he pulls Nathaniel up beside him and nearly falls into his chest. He wants to savor this. Last time he didn’t, and it left him with nothing but what if’s and regrets for six years. 

What if it’s longer this time? Or never?

“Hawke says you’ll see us again, but I’m not actually sure about that,” Anders admits, hand lacing through Nathaniel’s, “There is something big coming. Very end of the world type of outcome, I think, and I would hate to see you get hurt. So once you leave here, _please_ , go far.” 

Nathaniel’s brows furrow for a moment before pulling Anders’ gaze up from the floor, “I don’t know what you have planned, but I expect you to do the same. We’ll just have to find each other again, far away from whatever is going to happen.” 

“Even if it’s at the end of the Earth?” Anders asks, eyes shifting to Hawke. He’s walking back with a wide grin, arms holding their crumpled clothes, and Anders’ stomach stirs. All he can do is hope that even Hawke stays by his side. “That may be where you find us.” 

“Yes,” Nathaniel answers, kissing Anders once more, “Just promise you’ll meet me there.”


End file.
